Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
I answer, not giving Luis a chance to ask. “I’m afraid we need to rearrange,” I say, working my way to the middle of the room and putting my phone on loudspeaker so everyone can hear just how pissed Luis will be.
“No, Black, you obviously didn’t hear me before. I need the guns and I need them now.”
“And you hear me now, Luis. I haven’t got time to deliver them. I’ll have your cash returned.” I cut the call and wait for the verdict.
“Well, someone had to take Volodya’s place on our shit list,” Brad chirps.
“Agree.” I laugh to myself. Where’s the fun in having no enemies at all? Now, where the fuck is Amber?
34
ROSE
I peek over the top of my magazine to Beau. She looks as comfortable as I expected as she messes with her cell—not comfortable at all—her attention elsewhere. As it has been since we arrived. A distracted Beau makes me uneasy. I can only imagine how it makes James feel.
Today is just meetings. That’s what Danny said. I don’t believe him, and now I’ve somehow gone from trying to keep Beau busy to buying a beauty spa. I’m rolling with the fates.
If she pulls one of her disappearing stunts again, it could fuck everything up, Rose. We’re getting somewhere here.
Getting somewhere. Does this mean this nightmare will soon be over? And . . . does Beau know?
I slam the magazine shut with more force than I planned, silencing the room. Esther and Lawrence look back over their shoulders, their nails half painted, and Pearl and Anya lift their heads from the massage chairs. Beau, though? She doesn’t look up from her cell next to me where her toes are under a UV lamp. I wait for everyone to get back to whatever treatments they’re having and reach over, poking her. She looks up at me, vacant.
“What color did you go for?” I ask.
She blinks and peeks down at her feet, reminding herself. “Nude.” But of course. “You?”
I don’t look down. “Red.” But I do look at the ruby on my finger. This is the only red I want to see on you. I frown, seeing the red, slutty dress I was wearing the night Danny took me. The slutty red lipstick he rubbed off my lips when I wore it simply to piss him off. “Excuse me,” I say to the therapist working on my toes. “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like pink, please. Or maybe coral.”
Beau goes back to her cell, and I make sure she hears my exasperation. “What?” she says, dropping it in to her lap heavily.
“You’ve not spoken a word since we arrived. This is supposed to be a girlie pamper day.”
“Oh, please. You are my best friend. You know me, and this”—she points at her toes and then around the lovely spa—“is not my bag.”
“I know,” I grate.
“So why am I here?”
I feel like she’s goading me, pushing me into a corner, pressuring me to confess. “I already told you, I’m buying it.”
She laughs, prompting Esther to look back at us. She knows shit’s going down too. In fact, we’re all here doing a terrible job of pretending we’re blissfully unaware that our men are murderers who are quite possibly murdering someone right now. Just meetings. I snort to myself.
I turn to Beau. “What’s going on?” I ask. She’s not mentioned a word since her meltdown in the kitchen when she thought James had left. Nothing.
Her attention remains on her cell, and it’s beginning to piss me off, like I’m not worthy of an explanation. “Rose—”
“And last night? Danny said James was trashed. He never gets drunk, Beau. Ever.” She’s disappeared before. They’ve argued before. It’s a constant challenge not to become a bag of nerves in this life. Beau’s an integral part of what keeps me sane, and I know I am for her too. But she’s distancing herself. It’s not helping with my nerves. “Are you and Ja—”
“He found my birth control pills.”
I shoot back in my chair like I’ve been hit with an arrow, and Beau closes her eyes, hiding from my reaction.
“What?” is all I can muster. “I thought you—”
“I don’t.” She won’t look at me. Face me. Face the truth.
Self-preservation. She’s trying to control what she can’t control, and she doesn’t even know if it needs controlling. “So that’s it?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“You’re a dick.” I sit back in my chair and open my magazine, roughly turning the pages, not reading the words, but staring at the pages briefly. Then I slam it shut and face her startled face again. “Is this why you’re playing cop again?”
“What?”
“Running off around town telling yourself your dad’s been murdered so you have something to do? A mystery to solve? Something to focus on instead of you and James and the…”
Her lip quivers. “Amber’s inherited it all. You don’t think that’s suspicious? And Dad’s friend, Cartwright. He washed up on the beach. Not suspicious?”